


Hello Elliot

by reisadork



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Confusion, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Grief, Guilt, Panic Attacks, Post canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reisadork/pseuds/reisadork
Summary: Elliot (host) deals with waking up after over a year of being under. He has to adjust to all the changes that have happened and it isn't easy.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of my first official fic so bare with me. This is how I picture things going after the events of season 4. I'm planning on making several chapters but I'm unsure how long it's gonna be yet. Sidenote: I'm not an expert on DID however I intend to make this respectful and well represented while still sticking in line with Esmail's characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I just noticed I put down the year as 2016 instead of 2015 as the year (how'd I do that?) LOL. Fixed. (Not that the show sometimes messed with our perception of dates but lets not get into that)

I slip into consciousness. Hold on. This smell, I know this smell. The antiseptic, the metallic tang, paired perfectly with unpleasant emotions. When I open my eyes I’ll be lying in a hospital bed, but why am I here? I could run through every possibility but one thing is for certain: I don’t want to be here. 

Nothing good has ever come from me lying in a hospital, or with being around hospitals in general. Shit. No, don't think about it, don’t. Okay. I should look, maybe no one will be around and I can just sneak out. If anyone asks I’m just needing a smoke. I can hack in when I get home and change my status to released. Sure it’s criminal but I wouldn’t do anything more drastic than that, and it will be better than trying to convince someone that I shouldn’t be here. 

No, wait. I don’t want to open them. Having the fluorescent bulbs sting into my eyes would only make this pain worse. Ouch. Now I’m wishing they’d upped the pain killers, cause my head fucking hurts. I suppose that's the reason then, and I don’t seem to remember so I must have hit pretty hard. Still, I can’t stand to be here any longer. It’s one inconvenience or the other. 

I open, blinking a few times. In front of me, someone comes into focus. Darlene? Yes, it is Darlene. What the hell? 

“Hello, Elliot”, She says in the most tender and loving way, smiling even. 

It’s unsettling for a moment to hear her like that, given how things were with us. I realize my mouth is hanging open and I snap it shut. The entire sensation of my tongue disgusts me. 

My gaze darts around to see if anyone else is there, but it seems we’ve got the room to ourselves. Wait I recognize these rooms somehow. Hold on, am I in New Jersey? I jolt my head up and immediately regret it. Darlene winces along with me. 

Wait that’s right, I was expecting to wake up alone. Shit. It seems like my chance to just walk out of here are gone then. Why does she have to be here?

I guess I should be happy it’s Darlene if anyone. If there is a person I’m fine with sharing my pain with it’s her since we share most of it anyway. I’m not all too thrilled though. Last I remember me and her weren’t speaking. She had left, and I had told her I didn’t want to see her again. We still haven’t made up, she should know I’m still angry with her, and she should still be pissed at me. If anything should be making sense right now it would have been waking up alone. So why is she here? To pity me? To apologize? 

“Why are you here?” I clenched my brows. 

“Because we’re family.” 

“Huh, that's funny.” 

I must have said something because she makes a deep sigh. What’s she so worked up about?

“Right, I suppose I should expect you not to remember.” 

_ Remember what? _ She shifts herself up onto the bed and I inch away, dividing any physical contact between us. I can’t handle that right now. I also didn’t really want to interact with anyone and preferably I’d be out of here by now. She takes the hint and moves off and starts pacing.

I passively watch her as she seems to be wrestling with something she has to tell me. Maybe it shouldn’t shock me so much that she’s here, it’s just been such a long time. I think I can accept that answer. Yet there’s something that feels very off about it as well, especially this vague thing about remembering. Did she mean hitting my head? I don’t see the big deal then. 

I’m honestly only talking to Darlene because it’s a distraction. She also wouldn’t let me leave, so what else am I to do. I suppose even when we’re fighting she always did care about how I was doing, even when she convinced herself she didn’t. I admire that about her because I can’t say I’ve always cared. 

She’s still not talking and it’s bothering me. I know she’s staring as I fidget with the white sheets, rubbing my fingers back and forth on a pinch of fabric. They’re not necessarily comforting but it helps to feel something. This silence isn’t helping my growing confusion. Finally, she breathes in and comes back towards me.

“You’ve been away.”

Now I look.  _ What does she mean by that? _

“To put it simply, it happened again.” She makes a gesture with her hands as she’s explaining it, and I already know.

“One of your switches.” 

_ Right. As much as I’d like to forget I’m fucked up. I’m not like other people. This is not just a bump to the head that I don’t remember. It wasn’t me who put us here. Why’d they do it? This still doesn’t answer anything.  _

I show her I’m listening and Darlene keeps talking, but she’s patient, probably trying to not alarm me. I just need her to speak.

“Except” She hesitates for a moment. “This time it sorta lasted for at least this whole last year.” She shakes her head, “Elliot, you’ve been gone a rather long time.” 

There it is. I can see why she was slow about it. Shit. That long? I’m trying hard to process what that means. It's really been that long? She has to be fucking with me right? She looks pretty upset. I have to look away. My eyes flick to the tv screen on the wall. Holy fucking shit. Darlene notices and turns around.

“Oh no.” She mutters under her breath. I don’t think I’m meant to be seeing this.

We both stare fixed at the news. None of it registers for me, it feels unreal. Like something out of a movie. Not exactly abnormal in my case. Except this is much different from how it usually goes. The report goes on about all these things, a dark army, an explosion at the Washington Township plant. Yet it’s definitely all happening, I’m here, externally, it’s all real.

I still hear every word of it, but all of it starts to pass through me. In one ear and out the other. None of the words mean anything to me, because there’s me, that’s definitely my face on the screen, and there’s the date, December 26, 2015, the time, 3:34 pm. Fuck, Darlene isn’t lying to me. Still, I don’t understand. I don’t understand. 

“Darlene?” I manage to say.

My voice comes out fearful and shaky. I’m panicking, when did I start panicking? 

“I need you to tell me everything.” 

She doesn’t answer. She's over by the window grabbing the remote and turning the TV off. Did I not say that out loud? The nurse hurries into the room, asks Darlene something, probably about me. Definitely about me. I slam my eyes shut and try to steady my breath. Is this anger or am I scared? My head is pounding. How could they have let me slip away for an entire year? What have we done? I can’t deal with this. 

* * *

_ “That didn’t go well.” _

_ “Don’t worry kiddo, he’s just having a bit of shock.”  _

_ “I don’t think this is going to work.”  _

_ “He’s stronger than you think he is.”  _

* * *

I must have gone back into sleeping because Darlene wakes me. The room is dark, and it looks like the sun has set outside. I was probably only out a couple of hours. 

“Elliot?” 

I turn my head towards her. She’s smiling. I manage to smile back. This is nice actually.

“I have to head out for a few hours. Can I trust you?” 

I have to think about it. I’m calmer about it now but really my opinions on staying here haven’t changed. Still, I can tell being here until I’ve officially been released means a lot to Darlene right now. Something also tells me I should come to terms that she may have become part of my life again so I should try caring about how she may feel. I give a small nod. 

She nods back and gets up out of the chair. My eyes follow her towards the door and my throat tightens. This still doesn’t feel right. 

“Wait, Darlene.” I catch her and she turns back around to face me. 

“Sorry, I can’t tell you everything ye-”

“No, I want to tell you I’m sorry.” 

She shakes her head. “You don’t have any reason to apologize.”

“If we’ve made up though, I wasn’t the one to do it.” 

She crosses her arms. I can tell she’s been blaming herself for what happened between us. She shouldn’t do that. It was more me than her. 

“Look, I don’t care about getting your apology for whatever you think you did. I’m just glad you're here.” 

That isn’t the response I wanted but Darlene just leaves after that. I rest my head back onto the pillow. It feels nice, they must have upped my pain killers. I lay there going back over everything. The WashingtonTownship Plant. I still need to know why I'm involved, why I was there. If it’s really been a year this probably means things I’m still concerned with are all old news. I should try and focus on catching up. I’m the only one excluded from knowing. I have so many questions. 

Some nurses start to converse outside my door and my thoughts get disrupted. Now what? I don’t want to go back to sleep but I’ll still need a distraction. I look at the TV, it’s still off, probably best if it is. Think about something else Elliot.

Did Darlene ever say how long she’d be gone? Shit, a few hours but I don’t think she did. I spot my personal belongings on the counter across from the bed. If I could get on my phone until she got back. Yes, anything to not remind me that I’m in a hospital right now. 

I wait till I hear the nurses leave then I push myself to sit up, grabbing ahold of the metal IV pole. Then I’m using it to balance while I stand. Having my bare feet on the floor sends a nice chill into me. 

Moving around isn’t too bad but it feels like I haven’t done so in a day, actually, that’s probably how long it’s been. I roll myself over and shift through the pile of my things. For a moment it feels weird like I’m digging through someone else’s stuff. I remember buying these clothes though so technically they should be mine, but still. I go into the jacket pockets, that’s where I’d keep things. I dig out keys, a flash drive, and there’s my phone, or someone’s phone.

I turn it over in my hand examining it. No, I definitely didn’t buy this. I wasn’t the one to crack the screen. It must belong to another one, probably whoever took over. I press the home button. Yep, it’s password protected. I don’t think any of us like others looking too much into who we are. Heck, I’m not even supposed to know anything about them and hardly do. Oh well, guess this is mine now. 

I roll back over. Instead of the bed, I plop myself down onto the chair. I let out a hum as I sink into it. It felt really good to sit up. Maybe the fact that I can walk and sit means I shouldn’t be here all that much longer. That’s good. Now to figure out if I can get into the damn thing. I need to know what Darlene wasn’t able to tell me.


	2. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot and Darlene are back at his apartment, but his mind wanders elsewhere. He's found something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry more angst, enjoy.

We’re on the couch in my apartment. There’s hardly anything different about it,  Qwerty isn’t here though. Not sure what I’m gonna do without him. She was a good fish. Darlene decided to put a movie on her laptop, but I haven’t been really watching it. There hasn’t been a word said between us since we got on the subway after leaving the hospital.

I’m acting calm but really I’m freaking out right now. I’m afraid if I let anything out that cover will blow right off. I sit and pretend to pay attention but really I’m in my thoughts. 

I’ve gotten some answers as to why we were at the plant. This last year we started a hacker group called fsociety. Its purpose seems to have been this wealth disruption and from what I gather it’s connected to the dark army. I met with the leader, who happens to also have been the Chinese minister of state security. 

My guess is there was a clear conflict of interest between our groups, and that going to the plant meant solving it, but obviously I don’t remember anything. There hasn’t been an ounce of guidance through this. It’s frustratingly quiet. 

There’s more, do I even talk about it? I feel so much regret. This pain, I’m not even sure how I’m able to hide it right now. Perhaps the scale of it has quite set in yet. It’s definitely grief. 

I sense another feeling as well. Somehow it’s relief. We pulled off the biggest wealth distribution in history. We brought down a lot of terrible rich scumbags. I think I’m proud, but I can’t be happy about it. Maybe these emotions aren’t mine, they’re too conflicting.

There were casualties involved in getting to this point. I can’t help but feel fully responsible. So many died in the Ecorp facilities explosions, and whoever was working with Darlene and us seemed to be dead too. There are probably other people dead I don’t know about. And then- 

“Elliot? Elliot!” Darlene yells trying to get my attention. 

I snap back, realizing the movie is over. How long had I been just sitting here as if it was still on? Wait, my eyes. I’m crying. So much for holding it in. 

“You’ve found out haven’t you?” 

She’s right. It wasn’t actually difficult to get in. First guess actually, like a muscle memory kicked in while pressing the screen, my thumbs seemed to move on their own. I found out going through Darlene and the others text messages. These seemed to fill the immediate information leading up to going to the plant. Then I came across something.

At first, I wasn’t sure, maybe Angela had left town, but no. The more I scrolled up it became obvious. Our childhood friend was dead, the dark army killed her. I’m responsible for why she got involved. Angela was gone and it’s my fault. 

She was the only friend I could rely on. Hell, my only friend just in general. When Darlene left she would check in on me more often. I would lie sometimes and say I'm good then we’d just hang out and maybe smoke a joint. Knowing she would be coming over got me through some days at work. It was good for me to have someone around I could trust.

I didn’t appreciate it enough. She always had my back even when we were kids. But I can’t rely on that anymore. I can’t ever watch our favorite movies again, or tell our inside jokes.

At the moment, those thoughts hadn’t yet occurred to me. I was so frantic that guilt hadn’t set in yet. Instead, I found myself descending quickly down a slope, finding out everything I could from the phone about the dark army. I just needed to know. I needed to know everything.

Now? It’s safe to say I’m filled in enough. Once my emotions fully came to access the situation my curiosity was over. It was too much to continue digging. I don’t even want to pick up the phone anymore. I’ve thought about breaking it or throwing it away. Somehow I’ve managed to hold back, just in case. I don’t know why since nothing mattered. 

Maybe I’ve held back too much. I curl myself into Darlene who wraps her arms in to pull me closer. Then I just let it out. She’s here but this feels just like loneliness. The intense, sobbing, uncontrollable emotions I’m all too familiar with. I hold onto her as if my life depended on it. Letting go would feel like agony. It’s only us, I have no one else.

I’m so angry. I’m so angry she’s gone. I’m so angry with who I am, who we are. I’m angry that all of this happened. I’m angry with the others. Why had I been left out; locked away? What, if anything, brought me back to deal with this? I don’t want to know about the past anymore. I want to know why. It hurts, this pain is my fault. 

“Don’t leave, please, don’t leave!” I know she won’t, but I’m scared.

“I’m not Elliot, Never! But please, breathe. Easy. Please. You’re squeezing too hard.” 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Darlene helps me through pacing my breaths and grounding myself. This must be difficult for her to witness. I continue crying for what feels like ages, but eventually, I’m able to calm back down. The regret still lingers but it does feel better for now. I’ve released all my pent up emotion and now I’m drained. I lift my face off Darlene's shirt. It’s all wet from where I was sobbing into it.

“You feel better? Do you need anything, do you wanna talk?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I can’t imagine.”

I reposition myself so my head rests on Darlene's lap. I’m too tired now to keep sitting up. 

“So who was it? Mr.Robot?” I ask.

“Uh, Sometimes I’d notice him but,” she shakes her head. Hesitating again. I get that it’s difficult but I just need answers. No, be patient. I should have been patient before. 

“But what?” I can’t help myself.

“This one was new, I wasn’t sure at first, he’s so similar to you.”

I look up to her and she looks down at me. I, a little bit, suspected something like this. The texts were not how Mr.Robot typed, and he’s the only one I knew besides me who fronted. So this new one, he’s like me? I find that hard to believe.

“I would never do this.” 

“Well you sort of did, we did. Elliot, you do realize we saved the world right?” 

She tried hard with that one. Yes, it’s great I’ll admit it now. Hell, I admit if I wasn’t so involved, grieving, feeling responsible, and regretful, I’d be celebrating. Secretly I’d always dreamt of making the world a better place. Somewhere with less inequality and less misery. I can respect the choice, but why go through the risks if this is the cost? 

“But people have died Darlene. Angela is dead.” 

I hit a nerve, she narrows her brows and breaks her eyes away from me. 

“Yeah, I’m reminded about that every day.” She lets out a groan. 

“And it fucking sucks but I know she would want us to not feel bad about it.” 

She’s right, Angela Moss would want us to be happy and make the most of it. She’d insist we hold our heads high despite everything. In this sense, Angela was so much stronger than either of us. We tended to wallow in our own shit too much. That's what Angela was good for, a good friend that can tell you things are fine. Things are going to be fine. 

What would she say right now? To not feel regret and worry about myself. That she is just as responsible so I shouldn’t be blamed? That she’s dead but can handle it. That sounds about right. I hate it but maybe this hypothetical Angela is making sense. 

I don’t say anything. Darlene and I relax for a while, things seem to settle and feel normal for once. I could get used to this, but there’s still more I need to do. First, I need to not always be swimming in my own confusion and emotions. I should try to enjoy the fact that I’m here and not get caught in why I wasn’t. For Angela. This motivates me enough to get a sudden boost in energy. I decide to take this moment of not feeling like the most terrible person alive while I still have it and get off the couch. 

“Let’s go,” I tell Darlene. 

“Where?” 

“I want to replace Qwerty. To start fresh.”

We both look at the empty table where he used to be. Qwerty was a gift from Shayla, I wonder if she’s still around or if she moved out. The fact this apartment is surprisingly drug free suggests the latter. Shame, she was actually pretty chill. She lingers in my thoughts as we head out. 

* * *

Darlene and I stare down the options. Dozens laid out in plastic containers. It’s hard, betta fish shouldn’t be kept like this so it makes you want to take them all with you. 

“What about this one?” She points to a blue one that looks just like Qwerty. 

“I’m thinking red.” I spot one of that description, pulling it off the shelf. 

“Good choice.” 

We wander around the fish supplies section to gather the rest of the things we’ll need for this new guy. I think it’s a guy. I start thinking of some names but none seem right yet.

“What’s gonna happen now?” I ask out of the blue while grabbing fish food. 

“What do you mean?” 

Darlene crouches down and picks up a tank showing it to me. I nod and she puts it in the basket. 

“I mean, since what you and he did is over, what’s gonna happen?” 

She gets back up and I put a few more things in the basket. 

“Well, I plan on staying.” She laughs, “truth is I could be in Budapest right now, but I bailed.” 

“Why Budapest?” I never pictured Darlene ever wanting to go overseas.

“Cisco mentioned wanting to go, I think he got to me.” 

I’m not exactly sure who Cisco is but an image of a man wearing a flat brim cap pops into my head. Have they slowly decided to start sharing with me, filling the gaps I wasn’t around for? I wish they would just speak, it’s so much clearer that way. Maybe they’re mad at me too.

I could be that I’ve just been out of the loop for too long. It’s more difficult to communicate. It could also be that my emotions get in the way of making it any bit easier. I’m reminded of what we did and the regret builds back up in my stomach. Rationally I know better but I can’t control it. 

We walk up to the cashier. That’s right, because of 5/9 everything has switched over to eCoin. Shit, I left my phone at home. Darlene and I share a knowing look and she pulls hers out. 

“It’s fine, I can pay.” She scans while the cashier bags our things.

“Happy holidays.” They say as we move away from the counter. 

We step outside for December in New York it's not a bad night. Still, we should get this little guy home as soon as possible. 

“Can I ask something?” Darlene says as we’re waiting for the crosswalk. I hesitate, I don’t want to start this again. Not right now. My stomach twists. I’d hoped for feeling okay to last a while longer. Still I guess it’s better if we talk on the way back. 

“Okay.” 

She waits until we walk across to the other corner. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” 

I hadn’t thought about it really, I was too worried about the gaps to try and think about what I could remember. I was at work, it was memorial day. My co-workers had been pestering me all morning to go out with them, but I had to finish the hack I was working on. Then it gets messy, lots of gaps, I remember being in the server room then nothing. 

Hold on, something else is nagging at me. Like the file’s lagging while I’m trying to open it. It starts to come in, a park, and there’s Darlene, I’m ignoring her. I remember this.

I’m staring at her from a distance and walking over. I’m convinced she’s trying to make up. I stop in front of her.

“I wanted to tell you that I found out Vera’s back in the states.” __

I don’t know who that is, Vera? Radio silence from her and then she shows back up naming someone I don’t know. This is a waste of my time. 

“Why should I care?” 

“Wow seriously? You should be careful! He could be looking for you.” 

Then I walked off, I didn’t want to see Darlene if it wasn’t to fix things. So I blew her off. Then all I remember is walking, working off steam. I end up at my apartment, then it fuzzes back out.

“I thought it was Memorial day but I think you told me about Vera coming back.” 

“That was you?” 

“I guess so.” 

This makes me realize I may not have been so trapped as I thought I was. Something had brought me out in the park with Darlene. I wasn’t entirely gone for a year, and this brings me some relief. 

We approach the steps and I stop. It feels like someones watching, someone’s there. I look around but don’t see anyone but Darlene.

“Something wrong?” She looks around too.

“Nothing, let’s go in.” 

I hold the little guy closer to me and slowly go up the steps. I can still feel it all the way up to the door of my apartment. Like I’m being followed. I keep glancing back but no one’s there. I turn the keys and quickly get inside. 

_ “Sorry to keep you waiting” _


	3. Sorry To Keep You Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just about setting up a fish tank, nothing that makes you wanna cry or anything ... (Mr.Robot shows up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Self-depreciation, anxiety, vomit.

_ “Sorry to keep you waiting.” _

__ It’s him, Mr.Robot. Piercing his voice right through my own thoughts. Plain as day. I head in, moving things out of the way before setting the fish and the bag down on the counter. This place may need to be straightened up but not right now. Behind me Darlene put the tank down on the table where Qwerty’s was, now she’s coming over.

I need to play this cool. It’s not cool. Just showing up with “sorry to keep you waiting?” I wasn’t waiting at all. No, maybe I was. No I wasn’t. I don’t remember.

Agh. Who cares? I’m pissed. He was one of them out here while I was in there. Where did I even go? While they did all of that, all the things I don’t want to be reminded of. I am reminded of it. I thought I trusted him once. I’ve been betrayed by him.

_ “Get out of my head! Don’t talk to me!” _ I put the fish food down a little too sternly onto the counter while unpacking. Darlene makes a quick glance at me, and I place the next item down gently out of embarrassment. 

“Move over, you go fill up the tank. I’ll unpack.” She says.

I comply, compose myself, and open the cabinets grabbing down a pitcher to fill with water.

_ “Now hold on a minute.”  _ He continues back in as I’m doing this, annoyed that I'm trying to ignore him. I see he hasn’t changed, always dotting and nagging. It was fine before all this, charming even at times, but not now. I’m through being nice. 

_ “I said Shut up!”  _

I continue trying to ignore him, sliding the pitcher underneath the faucet and turning the water on. 

_ “Let me explain.” _

He sure should explain himself, but I don’t wanna hear his sob story. He’ll make excuses when there isn’t one, steer me into forgiving him. I won’t fall for it this time.

_ “You know what you did!” _

__ I watch the water rise in the pitcher. The pipes make a hissing screech as it pours down. I flick my finger under the current to test the temperature. To my right Darlene finishes, crumbling up the empty bags and tossing them aside. 

_ “Yeah, I get you’re mad, don’t think I hear that shit?” _

It seems we both can’t ignore each other unfortunately. I don’t care what he heard. My anger is entirely justified, he has no room to talk. My knuckles turn white clenching onto the valve. 

_ “Let’s just calm down a sec and hear me out.” _

I take a deep breath, more out of aggravation than anything else. If he’s only here to do damage control he should take a hint. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been done listening to what he has to say.

_ “You pushed me out,” _ I snap at him. _ “You fucked with my life.”  _

The pitchers full, the waters off in an instant.

_ “You're terrible! I hate you!” _

This stings Mr.Robot, I sense it. It’s his job to protect me I guess, that's what he said when I was first coming to understand what was really happening, but he hasn’t done that. I’m done needing him. Let that sting sit with you. 

I’m trying to push him out, block his words from my thoughts, and be left alone. I grab the handle and move the pitcher onto the counter. My hands are unsteady, a bit of water splashed down onto the floor. It doesn’t seem to work, and he realizes. I’m stuck. 

_ “As I was saying, sorry for the wait.”  _ He’s shifting positions in my head. His voice travels around and seems to be pacing slowly. Must have made himself right at home now that he knows I can’t do anything. 

_ “I’ve been trying to get to you, but this is a mess kid you’ve got all your walls back up. This isn’t as easy as it used to be.” _

Darlene rips a towel from the roll, “Woah, easy dude.” She says wiping up my mess. 

This isn’t easier, I agree. I’m sorry Angela, I tried but this isn’t going to work. I’m always going to be a confused, emotional mess who isn’t allowed more than a few minutes of happiness. This was a mistake. No, no I wanted this. I need to keep this fish alive. I’m sorry.

“Sorry,” I say while grabbing the box with the water purifier. The kind for new setups. Keeping my hands busy helps from losing it right now. 

“You’re good.” She throws the paper towel away. I focus back in. 

_ “And who’s fault is that? _ ” 

I rip open the cardboard and let the contents spill out onto the counter. I can just feel Mr.Robot stop and roll his eyes. __

_ “If I had any choice in how this worked I would’ve been the one to tell you everything myself when you woke up.”  _

Now I roll my eyes.

I don’t think he realizes that wouldn’t have changed anything. Besides, he probably would’ve kept me from knowing as well. He’d pull me along the fantasy that this past year went smooth sailing. Keep it that way for as long as possible. Blissfully ignorant. I would have found out eventually. Darlene could’ve told me but I needed to know when I did. 

_ “I’m not interested in hearing any more of the bullshit that happened if that's what you're here for.”  _

Drops of purifier fall into the water and disperse. Darlene and I lean back looking at the fish while we wait for it to do its magic. Focus on the moment.

Does he realize how small the space he’s in is? Or is he blissfully unaware that small container is slowly killing him? I think he’s probably aware it stresses him out, but I don’t know if fish have a concept of death. I’m almost jealous if that's the case. They probably don’t have a concept of guilt either. 

I bite my lips, and curl my hands into the edge of the counter. This whole time I’ve felt tense, my stomach in knots. I’m in my own tight space, but I’m not a fish, I'm the worst person alive. 

“Do you have a name for Her? Him?” Darlene says, but I’m focusing on the hardwood floors at my feet, not paying attention.

She waits a moment, taking my silence to mean no, then starts throwing me suggestions for names. None sound right, so I just keep shaking my head. All the while he’s still here.

_ “And how’s that working out for you? I know you’re pushing it down, but it’s there.”  _ I really try to ignore him, but he’s a present force. Each word just makes it harder. 

_ “You don’t really feel like you're gonna make it through this. You’re scared. You’re running. Distract from it all you want but the truth is kid, you're not able to deal with this and you know it.”  _

“Well I’m out of suggestions” She throws her hands up, “you keep thinking about it.”.

Darlene checks her phone and takes the pitcher with her over to the tank. My eyes follow. Why is she helping me so much? I really don’t deserve her here, she should just have gone to Budapest. That sounds better than babying your older brother. 

Shit, I’m being pulled in all directions. I think I want to be alone, but she told me she’s not leaving. I want her here, now I don’t. I’m fine, then I’m not. Mr.Robot can’t be right.

_ “You don’t know anything.”  _

_ “No, I'm perfectly aware of what’s happening right now. You’re the one lost here.”  _ His voice gets closer. _ “I say that ain’t fair.” _

Of course none of this is fair, but I can manage. I grab the things we bought to decorate the little guy's new home and join Darlene. I can do this, see? The rocks get poured down into the tank and I spread them out evenly. I can take care of this fish. I’ll be fine. 

_ “Please leave.”  _

_ “Stop blaming us or the past Elliot, or you're not gonna survive out here in the present.” _

He watches me while I set up the tank how I want it. Something here, something there, making it look balanced. I don’t like that we’re sharing this, what I see is what he sees. There was a time this was nothing, but I guess everything is so much more disorienting now that I’m back in the driver’s seat. 

His words are just trying to deflect my anger away from him, he deserves to be blamed. I do too but I’ll be fine. As long as I have control everything will be okay. I need to block him out.

_ “I can’t trust you. How do I know you’re not back for control, or him? He should be explaining himself, where the fuck is he?”  _ I sit back admiring my work, concentrating harder on moving him away.

_ “Control is the last thing we want right now.” He groans, “and besides the other one is completely blocked off. If you wanna ever talk with him you-.”  _

There, he’s gone. I unclench my jaw. I see Darlene has brought the fish over.

“The test strip came back good,” Darlene tells while holding it out for me to see.

“Alright.” I grab the pitcher and pour. He’ll be in his new home soon, he won’t be so trapped. He needs a name. 

“What about Data?” I throw out a suggestion into the mix. 

Darlene lifts up the container and looks at him. “Data.”

“Yeah.” I reach out and take him from her.

“I like it. Nerdy sure, but it’s your fish.” 

I open Data’s lid, here it goes. I tilt the container into the tank, and eventually he finds he can swim out. We watch him explore, swimming back and forth in the water. Graceful. So much more room to be a fish. 

There should be enjoyment in this moment, it's the best part. Data gets his fresh start, and this is supposed to be mine as well. But everything is so heavy, I’m incredibly tense, blood pumps in my ears. I can hide the fact that I’m struggling from Darlene at least. I don’t want to make her worry. 

“Should we feed him?” She asks, already heading over to grab his food.

I shrug, she can feed him if she wants. There’s no reason for me to move from where I am. It’s probably best I stay here, let my body settle away from these emotions. Data stares out at me and I stare back at him. Oh no. I think I’m not the only one looking anymore. How long was he there?

_ “You should know that won’t work for long.” _ Mr.Robot pipes in.

_ “Jesus fucking christ!”  _ I look away from the tank, away from Darlene while she feeds the fish.

“ _ You should be fucking grateful!”  _ He’s mad, I’m mad, our energies match but it’s clashing. 

_ “Grateful? Grateful?!”  _

_ “For all we did for you!” _

My head hurts, I have to lay down. Either floor is freezing, or I’m overheated. This isn’t a reward, I have no pleasure from this. If they’ve done this for me it’s to make me miserable. 

_ “You’ve done bad things.” My jaw clenches back up, “I’m supposed to be grateful for killing a bunch of people? Killing Angela?” _

_ “You have to see that it isn’t really like that. Everything we did was for you. We made this world better, for you.” _

He sounds sincere, I hate it. Can’t he ever just sympathize, feel this with me? He’s always acted unbothered, uncaring. Keeping a distance between us. Does he even care about what we did? I wasn’t even there and I do. 

_ “Oh fuck off! I never asked for any of this.”  _

_ “It’s not our fault people died in the process of getting to this point. We had no way of planning for that, and nothing can change that it did happen.”  _

_ “Bullshit.”  _

No one had to die, they didn’t have to do anything for people to die. Getting involved with the wrong people, getting other people involved. To my mind the risks were avoidable. I don’t know the circumstances of what brought about most things but there should have been a way out. 

_ “Let me help you.”  _ It’s like he’s staring down my neck towering over me. Somehow this is meant to be comforting. I can feel him trying to make me relax my shoulders, unclench my muscles. It makes me recoil, I fight him back. Let me feel my pain, let me sit with my guilt. 

“You okay, Elliot?” Darlene crouches down behind me and places a hand on my back. Her hand is cold as well. I reflexively pull back my breath, holding in. 

“Leave me alone,” I say aloud, but it’s directed at Mr.Robot. Accidentally I’ve pushed her away.

_ “Please?”  _ He’s frustratingly persistent, there needs to be a way to get him to back away from this. He can’t be doing this with Darlene here. 

_ “As you wish.” _ I throw in light sarcasm. I’m hoping It catches him off guard.

_ “Quoting Princess Bride?”  _ It landed, now he’s not right up next to me. He’s probably thinking the reference is cheesy, and it is. 

_ “Yeah. Now Leave, I’m not going to work with you.”  _ I try to be as calm as I can with him. If I’m reasonable he may let me go. Please let me go, I keep repeating, hoping. I wait, he’s wrestling out what to do. Let me go. Please.

Mr.Robot takes a long sigh. Then there’s more pause. Darlene hasn’t moved, she stays close with me through this. I feel ashamed how much vulnerability I’m showing right now, how much I’ve shown these last couple days. 

Mr.Robot clicks his tongue, _ “Consider my offer some more, you’ll take it.” _

Then he’s gone. 

Something about the lack of him being there causes a deep sickness within me to surface upward. I’m gonna be ill. I have to quickly get myself up to the bathroom. Hunching over the toilet I vomit up bile, inflaming my chest and burning my throat.

My ears ring and I can’t hear anything else. I hurl again but nothing comes out. It’s hard to breathe, I’m hyperventilating, I can’t stop. Gentle cold hands come in to rub my shoulders, then I’m over the bowl again. I lose consciousness. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you say you're fine but you're not really fine but you just can't get into it because they would never understand.


	4. We're Still Going To Be Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, it’s me... (Elliot has switched out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. (spoiler) I've sorta switched around the perception of Mr.Robot being "around" for this chapter because it fits in with how MM sees things in canon. I think it works?  
> 2\. When you come across gibberish it's Base 64.  
> 3\. The next chapter may take longer than these previous ones to get out so I can step back and make plans for how this all will play out.  
> 4\. Thanks for leaving kudos! <3

Hello again, it’s me. Sorry to show up like this on such short notice. Yeah I know, I didn’t think I’d be back here either. What the fuck am I doing here? It’s only been a few days since we were last here hasn’t it? Have you been watching with me? 

I thought I gave up control, I don't want this for him. Pretty sure I scared Darlene when I realized and started screaming. It's not supposed to happen like this. I thought things would be safer now after defeating Whiterose, but we seem to have a lot less control than any of us imagined. Suppose that’s just the way of it all, powerlessness in our ability to control, or not control. There’s only so much we can change in a short amount of time. There was never a choice to begin with, even if we do choose to go one way or the other.

Things just aren’t as simple as letting go. I thought I could give up my control and that would be it. Gone. That’s what they told me, and what I ended up wanting. That was my choice. Guess life was never gonna be that simple or fair. Still, what the fuck am I doing here? 

We’re still going to be here. I’m not Elliot, I’m only someone to take over in moments like these now, I suppose. But aren’t we all a part of something? Society, a family, the world around us, moments in other people’s lives. I don’t quite understand what it means to belong, but it's something that needs us to be there. If only as a small fraction of it, a line among many that make up the code. The thing to keep it all running. So even though we’ll be away now from time to time it won’t be for good. Elliot Alderson still needs us to stick around for a while. 

There’s worry amongst the other parts of Elliot, they’re confused why the plan isn’t executing. Especially the little one, he asks a lot of questions. I think I get it. I told Mr.Robot this wouldn’t work, not after I realized he’d be finding out what’s been happening. Not even I’m ready to fully unpack what we’ve gone through together yet. So much I’ve had to bury in order to continue saving the world. My bad I guess. 

I don’t really know him, but he’s definitely scared of me. I’m a monster in his head. I can't blame him for that, I admit some things we did were wrong. My choices weren’t always met with desirable outcomes. Elliot deserves to say ‘fuck you’. Trust me I get it, I’ve fucked up, I’m upset too. I have my regrets, but you know that. 

This cigarette masks the sour taste in my mouth, all the vomit he puked up. Not the greatest experience to snap back into a body hovering over a toilet with your guts spilled into it. Let alone when you all but gave up on the idea of being back in the first place. Yet here we are. Seeing the smoke blow up towards the bathroom ceiling helps me relax. I haven’t gone anywhere, this body is exhausted. My head rests on the tub.

There’s a hell of a lot of feelings right now, his fear, anxieties. So familiar. I’ve felt these before. These are just as much my feelings as they are his. It makes me remember the bad moments, I try to not dwell on them. My mind's been set on healing from my past. Luckily, they seem to be fading the longer I’m out. 

How do I tell Darlene? She’s been in and out of here to check on me a few times now; wants me to get up and take something, to lie down. But I’m not the one who’d been puking because of his emotions. I’ll just finish this cigarette, wait a while. Be out of here again soon. 

Soon? I shut my eyes tight, furrowing my brow; sniff in the frustration. Truth is I don’t know how long I’ll be out, and unfortunately I’m the one forced too. The more I get to know them the more I realize part of my role in this is to function in a multitude of situations, living life when he can’t. I think that’s why they won’t share more about who we are with me. Trauma and all that. Anyway, I shouldn’t get upset, but I wanted this for Elliot. He should be here. 

I'm worried I've forced my way back in without even knowing it. My control, clicking back on without my consent. Did I secretly still want this? Am I really the monster he makes me out to be? Maybe I am, but I have a feeling that since I've let go before I can do it again. I just don't know when or how to get there on my own. I don't want to be here, so I can't be stealing his life away again on purpose. I hope that's true for both our sake.

I smoosh the butt into the floor when Darlene comes back in. I’m glad she’s stuck around for him, she loves us, she won’t leave. I look down my nose, head still positioned on the tub gazing to the doorway. She looks just as exhausted as I feel, hell I probably look worse.

“You done now?” she sniffs, arms crossed with a look on her face I don't want to see. 

My eyes close, and I exhale. I promised her I’d be out after I finished having my smoke. Guess there’s no choice but to get up now. I nod, lean away from my support, and cough out the tightness in my chest. My hand grabs the sink and I push myself up and over to her. 

We exit the bathroom our own separate ways. My hands roam over shutting down Darlene's laptop and then grab my phone laying beside it. I pause to look at it, this thing is why I’m here. I get why he had to look, and it’s inevitable that he did. Me and him, we’re alike in our need to know what’s hidden. The CDs I have stored on the other side of this room are proof enough, some of them I know are his. 

Then I’m at the desk, the cord connects and it starts charging. My past is also his past. I think he deserves the right to know. I’d rather it not hurt so much, but we’ll have to endure it. Maybe he should’ve gone slower but he’s like me in that sense too. Running and never stopping. There are more things he needs to know, but luckily I’ve already gotten rid of what he shouldn’t. Not yet. 

Darlene’s next to me when I spin around. 

“Here,” she forcefully grabs my hand and places down some pills. “Ibuprofen, doctors orders.” 

She must think I threw up because of the pain, I touch my forehead. Not sure this will do much but it helps her so I pop them in my mouth, take the glass of water from her, and swallow. The water helps more than the drugs will. The cold rushes down our sore chest, strained from heaving, calming the burning sensations. I’m sorry Elliot, this was my fault. I rub my eyes then I reach over placing the glass on the desk. 

“You should have fucking told me something was wrong.” She says to me agitated, my back facing to her. No Darlene, it wasn’t me, but then again there wouldn’t be truth in saying I would have said something either. We can’t trust other people with how we feel.

“I worry about you.” 

Her words make a lump in my throat. This is about guilt isn’t it? Regret. I get a sense of deja vu from all of this. We already went through this, Fuck me right? At the memorial wall.

And well, I haven’t been entirely honest yet. I still feel guilty too, it hasn’t ever left. I hate myself, but what’s new? I think I can manage. I think I made the first step to forgive myself after things were finished with Whiterose. Elliot shouldn’t have to deal with these changes being so difficult, but I guess grief is a difficult and powerful force. I should know. 

Again, I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me for the bullshit. But I hope you’ll soon realize people got involved because they cared, I don’t know why they care, but you inspired them. Remember? This is really your dream, and it isn’t all bad. It isn’t all our fault for everyone’s deaths, you can enjoy living. Feel a little pride in saving the world from that machine, if anything. The Deus group is also gone, which means less to fear, but you haven't looked into that yet. Right, he’s not hearing any of this is he? It’s just you. So you know I don’t entirely feel this way, I almost don’t feel anything. I thought I did.

I groan while throwing myself backward. I missed this bed, the gentle cushion, and the warm sheets, unappreciated and underused. I’m back on it before he has a chance to, and that feels a bit wrong, but I need to lay down. 

It’s from here I finally notice our new friend floating around. Hello there. I’m sad it’s not Qwerty, but Elliot will love the fish all the same. He needs that bit of stability in his life. I shift up. 

“Come sit with me?” I ask. Well it’s more of a question than an ask, she’s done enough out here and doesn’t need to do anything else. She does it anyway, plopping down beside me and laying down onto her back. 

“Do you think you’re gonna be okay?” she rolls her head over to face me. 

I shrug, “Do you?”

“No, none of that. Talk to me dickhead.” she’s stern, “Tell me if it’s gonna be okay or not.” 

I don’t know, it’s not up to me. Whether or not this gets any better is up to him. The last part missed in the equation we didn’t think to consider. Is he going to be okay? That’s his decision. 

“I can’t do that.” I pause. “I uhmm…”

“Elliot, yes you can.” 

“No its, I can't,” I shake my head. “ It’s not him right now. I’m sorry.”

This gives the room a tense and awkward atmosphere. Darlene looks away, slaps her hands down on the mattress, and we just lie in the strangeness of it all. She must not want to talk to me anymore. I think we both expected the last time to be a farewell. 

I look up, in need of something to avoid this air between us now. The ceiling, with all its water damaged glory, seems so far away from down here on the floor. It makes you feel small, but in a way that’s comforting. The insignificance of it in comparison to yourself. Unless the impossible happens you never have to confront it up close, you can just acknowledge it. God this thought is pretty stupid. I have to talk.

“He’ll be back.” I decided to say. 

Out of the corner of my eye I see her light up a cigarette. 

“There’s just a lot he has to process right now.” I turn away from my gazing above. “He’ll be fine.” I don’t know if I believe this last part. 

She moves to get up but I grab her wrist. Don’t leave now, it will make things worse if you're not here when he gets back. Shit. Are we really so dependent on her? 

“Let go of me.” She snaps her arm back, and I have to let her go. She’ll do whatever she needs to do and I need to let her have that. 

I roll over onto my side and curl in when the door shuts. She’ll be back, she has to. What if she doesn’t? I roll in tighter. The tears start without me even noticing. The emotions we hide when we’re alone, and have because we are alone. Was I holding this in too? 

Someone enters the room and I jolt up to look. It’s not her.

“What happened? Where’s Darlene?” Mr.Robot stares down at me, but I can’t look at him. He’s angry, or well, his concern is anger. 

“I told her I wasn’t him and she fucking left okay?” I wipe my face with the sleeve of my hoodie and lay back down. I don’t have the patience for this right now. Mr.Robot grabs the phone off the charger, he’s using the tracker to see where Darlene is going. 

“She’s just outside.” he heads back to the door.

“Probably finishing her cigarette, let’s leave her alone.” 

“No we’re going down there.” His hand holds the doorknob. 

“Give her a fucking minute!” I yell from the bed. This is the first time we’ve fought in a while. We know Darlene’s the key that keeps Elliot here, that brought him back before. So I understand why we can’t lose her. But at some point, she’s going to have to leave. She’s her own person, who deserves her own life. I stay put, and he can’t do anything. 

He removes his hand and looks around. “So what’s the plan then?”

“Wait,” I say bluntly. 

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

“And if she doesn’t come back?”

“We’ll still wait.” I’m firm in my belief that she’s going to come back up here now in a few minutes. I won’t be so drastic as waiting several days, only to be met with disappointment. I suppose he’d know that side of Darlene to exist.

“Well I’m leaving.” 

“Okay.” 

Then he doesn’t go anywhere, just stands back looking at me. I’m waiting, he’s forced to wait with me. Isn’t this the set-up to an absurdist play? Waiting around, endlessly waiting? The difference is we’re actually waiting for someone who cares to show up, and the door clicks open to prove it. 

“Agh!” She shuts the door abruptly. “I’m being an asshole.” 

She kicks her boots off then steps her way back over to the bed “I should’ve accepted all the parts of you are still here.” 

I look up at her and our eyes meet. Both tired, drained, red around the corners. I do nothing, she sits back down with me. 

“Since you're here let’s just talk, not about you or anything.”

“It’s fine if you want to.” I don’t mind.

“I’m good, let’s just hang out.” she shrugs “It’s been forever since it feels like we’ve just... hung out you know?” 

Hanging out would be nice. I loosen up and spread out wide. Limbs reaching out everywhere. Mr.Robot and I share a moment from across the room.

_“I told you so.”_ I quip at him. He rolls his eyes at me and finally exits the scene. 

“You probably saw he got another fish.” She brings her voice down low, “I kinda like the old one better though.”

I chuckle. “Me too. I miss Qwerty.” 

My eyes follow his replacement as it swims around, not really going much of anywhere or all too quickly. 

“You know Dom brought up something at the airport. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” I mumble. 

“We’re gonna need jobs again, but like where do you go after something like this?” 

It seems we both confront that existentialism. It does feel like there’s nowhere left to go from here. Hell, my plan was to disappear into Elliot’s mind with all the others. But it’s a good point. When the end was nearing with Whiterose, I wasn’t thinking that the time was eventually going to come when things would have to return to a type of normal. Time was always going to keep going forward. 

“I think that’s up to you.” I nudge her leg with my foot. 

“Is it weird to miss it?” She lays down facing me. “Not fucking Dark army, I mean... There's just a rush to it. Kinda feels good to know what your doing is helping a lot of people.” 

I shrug. I was never motivated by that. My reasons for doing this stem from him, and I kept on for the few who stuck around, not for society. Not for the grandeur of fixing things. I think back on my speech with Whiterose. The way she just brought the gun on her head, and just like that we’d won; a vulgar way to end things, but fuck her. 

She changes the subject again, “I have money for an apartment now, so I’m gonna meet with someone about having a place to live soon.” 

“That’s good.” I looked around to see if Mr.Robot had anything to say about it, but I guess not. Suppose it will only matter when it happens. 

“Yeah.” She yawns. “Good.” 

It goes silent. I’m not good with conversation, and she’s run out of things to say. It’s fine, I don’t mind listening, I don’t mind silence either. Either counts as hanging out to me. Eventually I noticed she’d fallen asleep. I feel the pull to join her but there isn’t a chance to wait. If I’m to tell Elliot about what matters for him to know, now’s my chance. 

I reach down and boot up the computer. While it starts up I look back to see if Darlene’s disturbed at all, she isn’t. I roll into the desk, rest my hands onto the keys, and begin to type my message. When he finds this, and I think it won’t be long till he does, he may hate me, or he may listen. If there’s a chance he’ll take what I have to say, I have to try. 

“Hello. 

Sorry, I’m not good with introductions, so let's skip that part. You're probably wondering why I put this here, and yes it’s been left for you to find. It's also clearly obvious I'd want you not to delete this. I’ll keep this short for now, until I can find a better way to communicate with you. There's plenty of reason to feel guilty, but you need to move on. Let me help you. I’ll start out by apologizing, you don’t have to take it now. I’m sorry for the things that happened, these didn’t go without a lot of pain, but I’m learning to forgive myself. 

We’ve been through a lot this last year. A lot a lot. It must be confusing. It's been confusing for me too. Just thank the people in your life now, I’m sure more will come around here soon enough. And like Mr.Robot said, you need to know more but I think you also need to understand where we came from in going through this. Just hear what I’m about to tell you here. You need to remember. 

Memorial day, how much of it can you recall? 

Think hard, what was going through your mind at the time. What were you really doing on that day?

I don’t remember and he doesn’t, so it must be you who holds that key. 

It’s only a suspicion, that perhaps there’s more to why this all had to start. I think once you figure that out all of this will start making sense. It may call you into healing from this last year, it won’t happen if you can’t look at it. We have a tendency to avoid things, our therapist told us its important to process what we’ve been through. I think you’ll find there was more purpose to doing what we did.

Let me give you a head start on what I’ve already come to figure out:

WW91IHdyb3RlIHRoZSBwbGFucyBmb3IgdGhpcyBiZWZvcmUgSSB0b29rIG92ZXIu

Lastly I’m leaving the address to Angela’s grave: [link]. Maybe you’ve gone by the time you read this but I suspect you to avoid this as well. I haven’t gone, you should go. There may be more answers for you there as well. Whiterose is gone, she’s been avenged. Go make your peace.

Perhaps we’ll talk to each other soon. - E

P.S. We’ve been clean for several months now so if anything please don’t fuck this up.“

I look over the file, it’s not all that thought out. Making this was a feeling of impulse, it wasn’t going to perfectly say everything that it should say, but it will do. I close out then encrypt my message into a picture of us as kids, Me, Angela, and Darlene. We’d gone on a trip to some lake with Angela’s dad and he brought his camera with him. That was a good day, any day not stuck at home was pretty good. I hope this recollection I have of it is real. We seem happy. He’ll find it on the desktop, I’m not hiding that hard. In fact, I couldn’t make this any more obvious. That day at the lake was also a memorial day.

I turn off the monitor and swivel around. Darlene has rolled over to the very edge of the bed. I get up and pull the covers over her, then go lay on the couch. Then eventually I find myself asleep, hoping it pulls him back out come morning. Hoping things will get better, but probably it’s pointless to hope. Still, I still want to try towards that. Maybe that's the secret. To be okay, happy, functional. He deserves to live that way, we all do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?”  
> ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot


	5. 504 gateway timeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darlene shows Elliot her new apartment, he continues to battle with his guilt. He's established a routine for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't avoid how you feel forever. //. I got this out sooner than I thought because I just couldn't avoid writing. // 504 gateway time out commonly happens when the system is overwhelmed with requests or otherwise loses connection to the servers.

I watch Darlene’s keys twirl around her finger with a big smile on her face. I’m glad one of us get’s to enjoy this. She’s excited about her new apartment and has been going on about how much of a big moment it is for her. How she thought this wouldn’t happen for her. I agree it’s a big step.

It’s 790 square feet, newly renovated, one-bedroom, balcony space, key card access to enter the building, and security. Safety was a big thing on Darlene’s list. 

She thinks of staying here for several years and has been saying it’s a decent area. I think this is her way of telling me I should move somewhere better. She’s definitely told me that before but I think she’s stopped bothering. I don’t mind where I live now. 

Besides, I don’t think of moving as an option if I’m gonna end up in a place like this. This place, it’s too perfect for someone like me, being here now I can see that. I’ll admit though, this may be the most stable place she’d ever lived in. I wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of security in your life. I hope this lasts for her. She can really afford this now? Guess we made that possible huh? Why can’t I feel anything then? 

I fake a smile with her. This is good for her, but I don’t want to be here. It isn’t that I’m not happy she isn’t going to be stuck bumming around for places to sleep. It's that she’s forced me to come bright and early to see it with her and it breaks my routine.

I have a routine, believe it or not. One I made myself. I’ve always hated regimen, the way it makes you feel like a robot. Forcing a pattern into you like you're a machine. That amount of control over someone never sat right with me. We’re all conditioned to not really notice it, in school, in our workplace. It makes no sense to just blindly follow. Suppose it's different if I’m making the rules though.

It solidified itself over new years, around when Darlene started sleeping elsewhere to give me more space. This was a big moment of contention because she wants to hold me accountable for moving on. I promised her I would, so I’m trying. 

I’ve asked her to give me more distance because I can’t stand the looks she’s been giving me. Like I’m some lost puppy or something. Did she ever look at him like that? 

It also just made me feel more guilty that she was doing these things for me. I understand I am not my best right now, I know she’s trying to help, but I keep pushing it away. I appreciate it but I also want to be left alone. 

If I start feeling guilty over one thing I start feeling guilty about everything. It’s frustrating, I’m on edge, just as angry as I was my first night back. I wasn’t gonna let myself blow up on her again by keeping her around. Either she gave me space or I’d end up breaking what we now have back. Each other.

I worry about our promise. I’ve thought about it, but I’m still set on not needing Mr.Robot’s help. He can go suck a dick for contributing to all this. 

He’ll lurk from time to time, but when sticking to this routine he rarely shows up. I can feel him watching but he never says anything. Creepy, but probably for the best. I don’t think he knows I know when he’s doing it. 

Sometimes I’ll feel what he’s feeling too. He’s pretty pissy when around, more than usual. If anyone hates regimen more than me it’s him, he probably thinks this is all ridiculously pointless especially with the things I’ve been getting into. 

In truth it's been providing some stability, I’m not doing great actually. After I got sick in the bathroom I’ve been trying to keep from those emotions. I can’t let myself sit with guilt, especially after promising Darlene I’d get better. It may be easier if I just reached out for a solution, an answer. 

Still, I don’t need his help. Even if I'm finding it nearly impossible to run from this guilt. When I stay on schedule I can reduce risk, and feel okay on some days. Hopefully, the longer I keep it up the easier things will get. I don’t want to break this pact with my sister. 

I have it all laid out, run it through my head until it’s ingrained there. Get up at 6:30 in the morning, not sure why at that time but it seemed right. It doesn't matter if I’ve slept but being in bed is part of the routine now. I tried going out and changing that once when I couldn’t keep my eyes shut, deciding that maybe walking off my excess energy would be good, but it was a bad idea.

People stare at me now, I’m being followed wherever I go. It’s not a symptom of paranoia, I know that it's happening. They seek my attention in return for their own attention. The curious ones will sneak right up to you undetected. They ask me things I can’t answer, and even if I did remember they should still fuck off.

Doesn’t matter if it’s broad daylight or 4 in the morning, I’m now a target for connection to other people. Me, an awkward, cybersecurity engineer with social anxiety among other problems. You’d think the hoodie would scream leave me the fuck alone, but apparently that doesn’t work when people recognize your face and want to feel like they know you because of it. I really hate the news more than usual for running me alongside their story, manufactured with no consent from me. 

It’s bad enough I hate myself. I wonder, do they hate me, do they know? What opinions do they hold of me? Is it actually real? The routine tries to keep me inside now most of the time for this reason. Do I miss it? Of course, I do, I’m not naturally the biggest shut-in despite not knowing how to interact with people. But it's another trigger for guilt to be out for too long.

For one and a half hours the time is rather open. I piss, then often I stare through the broken blinds at the Starbucks they’ve put in across the street and I imagine myself caffeinating on their bullshit to wake me up. All the while thinking about corporate gentrification, or capitalist monopolization of industry, and how it limits the choices most people think they gain through the free market, or how it disenfranchises the same people over and over to keep the status quo in check. I did say it was bullshit. 

I’m moving at 8 AM, on the floor working up a sweat. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the urge to start becoming a person who works out daily in my entire life but apparently things just don’t feel right unless I move every day. It’s like I’m pulled in every which way unless I get down on the floor and attempt to give myself 50 of all the various positions. In any case, things feel a lot less disconnected after I do this. I’m here, my apartments here. The hot shower I take is here. 

Feeling this way means around 9 I’ll start with a distraction so the effects can last longer. I went through my closet recently and I’ve dug up old sketchbooks, an iPod, and various old tech things. I think I should probably clean out this place at some point but haven’t felt up to it yet. Besides, who knows what sorts of things I’d find to set me off.

Most days I’ll sit and draw with my headphones blasting whatever I was listening to in college, and other days I’m tinkering with my collection. So far I’ve repaired a broken yellowed keyboard from probably the early 2000s, not sure why I kept it before but now it should work again. I’ve also started this lame comic thing that’s more venting than anything else. This fills several hours of time if I can remain focused. 

Just like exercising, I’m not sure where these hobbies come from either, but my hands need the occupation. Perhaps these are things I’d be doing if I didn’t have hacking since really this is what’s keeping me from it. I don’t look at screens now unless it is unavoidable. My mind just sort of starts racing back to everything I read and I see myself slip back away from reality.

I need to remove guilt. I’ve unplugged my desktop setup to remind myself of that. Throwing it away just had too much push back, just like tossing the phone. Sometimes I still think about doing it though. In any case, I need to remain here. So for now I can’t do what’s natural for me, what I’ve always done has in some way led to all this. 

It’s incredibly frustrating though and my dreams seem to reflect this urge. Lines upon lines of code. It’s written all over, programming my deepest desires. I talk about them with Data and I think he sees my dreams as pretty weird.

And they’re happening less and less because of my growing problem with insomnia. Not anything new, I’ve had periods in the past so I don’t worry much about it. It will cycle itself back out at some point. It always does. 

Darlene typically is showing back up around noon to one so this time’s allotted to waiting for her. She brings by food because she knows that I now hardly eat on my own, and she calls me out for that. After we eat, she’ll try yet again to drag me out of my hole by inviting me somewhere. Says I’m not allowed to rot away inside, that doing nothing all day isn’t going to make it all magically disappear. 

My better half agrees with her, yet I still have my concerns with being followed. She can tell I’m forcing myself to not go anywhere, but I haven’t told her why. Lying to her is bad, but I still need to show her I’m okay or she’ll be back on my ass and my guilt for that would just complicate things. She’s already still mad I won’t talk to her about the night I threw up. I’ll keep wearing the mask of looking like I’m moving on and doing okay, she doesn’t need to know how I feel. 

To do this I can’t always say no, she’s succeeded about 50 percent of the time. I’m forced to write this probability into my routine to make it seem like I’m not always refusing. Yet this event is always planned from mid-afternoon to the latest time of 9 pm. Hence why being forced here in the morning changes things. Damn, broken so soon. Suppose weighting this routine on probability wasn’t the best choice. 

When we’re out, I’m honestly not sure where the hell we end up at usually. There are only vague ideas of what we do and talk about. I just sort of let auto-pilot take over while in my mind I convince myself I haven't left. This time is different. It’s important I am actually here, but I’m nervous. 

“You ready?” She takes a deep breath, she’s nervous too but clearly for different reasons.

The lock clicks open and the door gets thrown open wide. Darlene heads right on in heels echoing on the empty floors, then spins around. Her smile fading.

“Hello?” She snaps her fingers to get my attention. “You coming or do I have to hold your hand?” 

“Heh” I raise my brows and shake my head. “Sorry, yeah.”

I follow her in and shut the door. Despite trying my best to remain present, I’m very out of it. My hood comes down and I take my look around, spinning in place to get the full picture.

It’s decorated in the sleek modern way you’d expect it to look for a new renovation. An open layout with the bedroom being closed off as its own space past the kitchen on the right. On left we have what I assume will become a living room and the sliding glass doors leading outside.

This apartment has a lot of sun from all the windows surrounding the balcony, it stings my retinas so I'm squinting while trying to take it all in. Then there’s only one bathroom, the other door close to the kitchen, which I think I remember hearing is also attached in with the bedroom. 

“What do you think?” She says from near the bedroom door. 

“It’s perfect,” I respond from where I came in, this echo catches me off guard. 

“Well come on, there’s still more.” 

I’m forced to come to see the bedroom, she’s already placed her few accumulations of things down around the floor of the room this morning. I can imagine from this where she’s picturing everything going. Bed up against the far wall where the pillow and blankets are, desk over by her laptop, dresser over by the pile of clothes. This may be a stretch but I can picture a lounge over by the window where she’s keeping the rest of her stuff. There’s certainly enough room in here for it. It’s practically the size of where I live. Am I jealous? Not really. 

“Yeah this looks pretty fucking sad right now but once the furniture we picked out gets here.” She shimmies out of her coat and hangs it in the closet. “It’ll be like home.” 

I’m just now realizing this is surreal. My little sister is going to be living in a place like this and it's hers. I keep having to remind myself I’m not dreaming. Who am I kidding, this is what it feels like. That’s why I’m so distracted. 

Well, technically this place is the landlord’s, Julian Sills. I don’t know much about him because of my detox preventing me from hacking him, but he’s a landlord and that probably makes him some brand of an entitled asshole.

I wish I could’ve owned him, not knowing really frustrates me. The possibility is that he could be more than just an asshole. I have to remind myself Darlene probably already checked into him. She knows what she’s doing, safety was big on her list after all. 

“Yeah.” I go over and peek inside the bathroom and Darlene comes up behind me.

“You don’t have to come but I’m thinking about throwing a party here in a couple of days.” She walks past me and makes her way to sit on the counter. “But. You should try to come.” 

I look down. I don’t want to. What do I say? Maybe I don’t have to answer. I walk away from the bathroom and head back out to the main area. The sun hurts but I need fresh air. 

This is a nice size balcony, she could probably do something with it. I fumble with my cigarettes and put one in my mouth. By the time I light it she’s back over by me again. 

“Did I say something? Look, you don’t have to come.” She’s annoyed with me. 

I lean myself on the rail looking out as he skyrises. I don’t say anything, instead, I close my eyes and take a drag. When I open them, my arms are around her shoulders in a hug. My teeth biting my lips. I don’t remember reaching out or her bringing me in. What’s going on? Am I slipping from control? I step back abruptly, pushing her away. This is all surreal, a lucid dream. I don’t want to be here. 

“Elliot?” She steps back, tilts her head gawking at me. “You’re acting really weird.” 

I turn around and find my way back inside. 

“What’s on your mind? Tell me.” She hollers from outside.

I don’t move. I can’t express this feeling. These last few weeks I’ve barely held onto reality. How do I even put it into words that none of this is real without sounding crazy? That just sounds absurd. This world is real, it was real before. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

There’s a desire in me for reality. This wouldn’t be happening if I was at home. This is why I need this routine. Darlene doesn’t know about this being a routine. 

What’s on my mind? Money. Affording a place like this. Darlene’s able to move on while I can’t. I’ve been told what we’ve done has helped people, but it sort of hits me like a wall. I’m unable to process it as reality, and then other times it's all too real. I’m either behind the facade or hitting it hard in the face. None of it is good, even though I know the good to exist. I can observe but I don’t participate, I’m watching the biopic of my life. My enjoyment perhaps I should have isn’t anywhere near this wall, it hasn’t joined the party at all. Maybe I can’t move on like this.

What did Mr.Robot feel he needed to help with? It’s all about remembering, what I can’t remember, what I don’t think I want to remember. One year, several months. It's so surreal to know how long it’s been. Time itself just jumped forward like in Back to the Future 2. Except this is real, or a lucid nightmare, and I don’t have a flux capacitor that could bring me back to fix things. I’m also not Marty Mcfly, to my great misfortune. No, I don’t need him, no, I just don’t want to need him. 

This disorder, back then having these gaps made more sense when I realized my condition wasn’t whatever the hell college psychiatrist, what's his name, prescribed me. This is different, I’m scared I’ll be gone again. That they will be forced to live for me because I’m unable to deal with these blows of information. I have all my walls back up, is that what he said? Maybe that’s a good thing. 

This wouldn’t be happening if I was doing my routine. Shit. 

There’s another thing on my mind, the very thing I’ve been avoiding. Full stop I’m being honest with myself right now. I’d like to say it’s worked so far to keep it at bay but who am I kidding? The regimen is a pretty ludicrous display of my inability to remove myself from guilt.

So many lives; I wish I could stop caring. Angela, do you think I’m guilty? Do you hate what I had become? Do you blame me for getting you killed? 

I still haven’t moved, Darlene reaches out and grabs my hands squeezing them. 

“Stay with me here, look at me,” She tries to bring me back. I’m not here, I’m not here.

I cough, I’d been holding my breath. My face clenches and tightens. I can’t be here.

“Get away!” I yank away heading immediately for the door. 

She runs forward of me and stands in front of it before I have a chance.

“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what the fuck is wrong!” 

My hands ball into fists, this, it’s not like me. I slam a punch at the door, and I do it again. Darlene Flinches both times, “What the fuck!” 

“Let me leave Darlene.” 

“No!” She frantically grabs my hands again. “You promised me things weren’t going to get like this. You told me you’ve been adjusting.” 

It hurts; make it stop. I’m ruining this, I’ve ruined everything. She’s only allowing herself to have this place because she’s trusted me. It was stupid to trust me, I’m unstable, I’m a monster.

“Elliot, don’t lie to me.” She fights back tears, I fight back mine too. 

How do I play this off? I have to go home. She’d call me on my bullshit if I tell her I’m fine, I just need to go back and cool off. My only option might be to run. I stare at our hands, the only thing keeping me here. The only thing that feels real. We may not even be in this apartment but she has me in her grasp. Do I run from this? What would happen if I run from this?

I finally have the courage to look at her. She’s giving me that worried lost puppy look again. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

“I’m not okay.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” 

All the guilt drops down into my nerves. In the brief moment when it looks like I may finally open up to her, without thinking, before she says anything before she can even move, I’m out, running down the hall. Why did I run? Why am I such a shitty person? Why can’t I keep such a simple promise? Is she coming for me? I don’t know. My feet still don’t slow down once they reach the cement sidewalks of the cold New York winter. I have to keep running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone come get this man. //.


	6. Esc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chaotic ride on the subway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (There's a section where the tense changes halfway through, hope that doesn't bother anyone.)

I’m out of breath by the time I plant myself down on the plastic seat of the subway car heading four stops back to where I can safely return to my corner of escaping reality. The safe space littered with my pile of broken parts, my pens and papers, my offline world. I don’t know if I want to return to the routine. Yet, there my reality is controlled, at least what isn’t real doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t make me want to crawl away tucked into a tight space, and if it does no one would see me do it. It’s my controlled environment, where the guilt sits but doesn’t get disturbed. The neutral territory. I can isolate myself, and forget this. 

Did all that just happen? Fuck. I have to say it has, I can’t let myself fall back on old habits. Must refuse my all too easy ability to slip. When I deny I forget when I forget it just gets worse. Have I already made this worse? Maybe I should be medicated again. No, the meds fuck with my head, they especially fuck with his head. I can just- go home.

My head is low as I’m steadying my breath, look at no one. Yet, it doesn’t seem the people here care, no one cares on the subway. Maybe they should, anyone here could have a loved one who’s now dead in part because of me. No, I am just as anonymous as everyone else. Just as anonymous? I wish things were really that way. Think maybe I could erase myself, maybe I could disappear? What would it take to make it all go away? Well, I know one way, but I don’t want to consider it. Just get home. 

My breath evens out but my heart still pounds. It's crowded in here but these are all people more concerned about where they’re going rather than who they’re going there with. Maybe they’re like me, desperate, running thousands of things through their head while they wait for their stop. Yet, they more likely all give themselves small-talk reruns of the daily weather reports, the latest news headline, their lovers, a list of chores, normal things to think about. I could do that once, just go about my day casually. It’s a different life walking around with guilt. 

It’s a strange time in the world right now, but I haven’t yet felt like I’ve been living in it. I’ve been running away. My eyes are glued to my feet which feel like pins and needles from stomping on the pavement. I’ve run away. God, I’ve run away. This isn’t right. Why am I here? I hardly even remember running, I lost control of what I was doing. Why did I lose control? This is really happening. Don’t slip, don’t slip. 

Look at me. I’m losing it. Do I even want to be here? Sprinting away like a child, away from my problems. Some things just don’t change I suppose, I’ve always tried to get away. My natural reaction is flight, find the nearest exit, jump, run, whatever is necessary. Hell, I fucking ran away for over a year, that, or I was forced to. These habits of mine are expected; pre-programmed. What’s this?

I’m remembering one of the many times we kids were plotting our escape. Angela has gotten really into this book,  _ From The Mixed-up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler _ , and I’d just learned how to pick locks. Darlene must have been, four? Perfect timing to fulfill another Angela Alderson adventure. We’re all sitting on the floor, heads buried over a map tracing our route with our fingers, discussing what we’ll do when we get there.

Running away to live in a museum doesn’t sound bad when you're that young. Our way of dealing with a disrupted and confusing home situation. Which admittedly I don’t recall much from around that time, but I can remember a lot of the moments with my sister and with Angela. Yet I wonder, did we ever go? I don’t remember. 

Huh, this is the first time I’ve thought of her, and - do I feel happy? Is it this memory? I can’t be sad about it. Things were happy then, sorta. We’d always planned our little excursions, whether we went or not, and I’d always have some new trick up my sleeve to impress Angela. I’d usually then end up teaching it to Darlene because she always wanted in on it. Getting away felt like everything we needed to be free, and we were back then for a brief while. At least until one of us eventually decided we needed to go back; go back home. Right, just get home. 

I remember my promise to Darlene, and this doesn’t feel right anymore. I look around me, beginning to realize how ridiculous this is. Why am I even here? I already know. Panic. I should’ve stayed, I should have listened. Gripped tighter onto her, like before when we were young. I think that’s what she was trying to do back there. Hold my hands and everything will be real. It was working, she had me. I let go. I ran.

I ran, and I scared her, why was I so violent? I didn’t mean it, I don’t know what came over me. Dammit. What if I cause another one of her panic attacks? Her big day’s now probably shit because of me. I’m shit. She doesn’t deserve me. I’ve been acting like a child, now who knows what Darlene thinks of me? Am I able to keep the one connection I know I have left? Will I be alone? 

No, no slipping that way either. Deep breath, stay focused. I shake my head. Why do I care so much? We were never that close after I moved out of the house, maybe only saw her a handful of times a year. I cared because we’re practically the only family we have, but I treated her like a stranger most the time. Emotionally, I’ve been distant with her and maybe that hasn’t changed. I’d like to change that, but my culpability prevents it. 

Why does she even care so much? It wasn’t even me who brought us back together. It was him. Thanks? I don’t know, it’s all the same to her I guess. We’re family, it’s been a while since that's felt like a true statement. I’ve fucked this up, I need to do something.

Focus on your presence, Elliot. That’s right. I tune into how I’m feeling. Besides the usual lingerings of my guilty conscience, my head’s cleared; was it running? Well, I’m out of my fog so I think I can finally piece together some sense. Work out a way to keep this promise I’ve made.

What I’ve tried to do this past couple of weeks isn’t working. If I don’t do something I could destroy the one relationship I have left. This? It’s old software, it’s taken this long for the lag to catch up. I shouldn’t run anymore on old equipment, or I may just stop working. I don’t want to go offline again, who knows if I did if I’d make it back? How did I even make it back before? Why am I here and why do I feel I have to stay? 

Let’s not think about that now, What sense can I get? Read the data. He’s created this world out here I can’t comprehend, that scares me, both the good and bad. I feel guilty for the destruction, and I can’t be happy with the good to come of it. What can I do about this? To be honest it feels like I can’t do anything. Nothing can be changed about the past.

I suppose the world has always been ruled by forces we’re not supposed to quite get to, the invisible hands. The malicious upholders of our societal institutions. Forces that desire you to be ignorant, confused enough to look away. If he’s my hand then I’m no different, I’m not immune. These conditions he put me in, I’ve forced myself to not see either. Perhaps now I think I want to see, but I'm afraid. 

I’m afraid, and I also don't want to feel so guilty anymore. I don’t want to keep running like this. How would that even be possible though? I’m scared, thinking about the blood spilled even, it paralyzes me. Why am I so scared? Because I’m human? Why can’t I just move on? My hands ball into fists in my pockets. 

Buzz. I jump, escaping from my thoughts and look back down. I take my phone out of my pocket and give it a quick look before placing it face down on my leg. I see, she’s worried about me, isn’t she?

Can’t dig myself any deeper now I guess. I fucked up, and now I probably won’t answer. I don’t want to pick up, I don't want to confront her. Not yet, how would I even explain myself? I have to think about it. Shit, I’m scared, what the fuck is wrong with me? Didn’t I say I’d fix this?

She was just trying to help and I was selfish. My panic wasn’t an excuse to act like that. I’m sorry. I’m more mature than this, I’m more capable than this. I’m - Gosh, who am I anymore? I don’t recognize myself, or anything around me. The damage of being gone for so long, for everything that happened during that time. It’s like I entered an alternate reality and It’s hard to make any sense of this. Over a year and so much has changed. 

So there’s guilt in just being away as well. I wonder, would this have still happened, would it have gone differently? Look at what’s been done. Look at where I am now? Needing to escape. I’ve only made excuses that things were moving forward when really I’ve been holding back. I’ve refused to see that. I’ve been afraid. 

Will I always be stuck in this endless loop? Pointless patterns of behavior, trying to disarm what bothers me. I’ve done this in the past. The various methods of disengagement, burying myself in work or substances. This time is different though, I don’t have either and I’ve disengaged entirely for far too long. 

Now that I’m here, and I’m scared, I feel I’m always ending back up at guilt. How does one even cope with feeling this sense of blood on their hands? However indirect it may have been. How do you live in a world you can’t comprehend anymore? The world should be better than before right? Safe? Are these bugs I can’t fix? I’ve become someone I don’t recognize. Am I even myself? 

No, I’m still me, I have to remember that. I can think through this. I’ve thought through hard times before. Go into the file, find, and patch the bugs. This nagging feeling of being in a loop is only fear. Focus. There’s always another route you can take, I can still reach a better decision. I can still find my bugs. There’s time. Fear is temporary, guilt is temporary. 

Maybe it’s finally time I confront my hesitations, face my fears. The virus I’ve created will continue to spread if I keep running while leaving it unchecked. I need to find it, shut it down. I should be good at that. I grip my phone. Do I call her back? Shit, I’m hesitating still this won’t be so simple.

I need help. I’ve been avoiding admitting I need help this whole time. It’s come to this. Mr.Robot said to think about it, that I’d say yes. And what did I do instead of allowing him in? I distanced myself entirely, probably to tell myself it never happened until I believe it. To convince me everything is sunshine and roses, fall into a desperate delusion. Wouldn’t be the first time, but it would be among the worst things to just imagine never happened. 

Mr.Robot definitely knows what’s been going on. The act I’m pulling where I isolate to one area where I can filter in all my problems and forget the world exists. Endless hours of coding happened that way. It’s strange he’s been at arm’s length and silent about it though.

Could it be that he's being nice? Not yelling at me for this sooner; that isn’t like him. I know he’d want to, he’s the type to have any small incident occur and want to break out the dynamite, chew out the perp. Perhaps he’s another factor in this who’s changed, matured. 

Still, why not confront me? I’ve literally run myself into a corner. Does he trust that I can reach the right decisions? Is he forcing me to make them? Or is it that he is really honoring my request to stay away until I say yes to him? 

I don’t know, but this distancing act I’ve been pulling I wonder if I actually want that. To forget this. I do wish to not be guilty, I do wish to keep my promises. Am I trying to escape? Do I actually want this last year to disappear?

I know it doesn’t matter anyway, we can’t get that back. No one can hack time’s push forward. Either the act needs to give up, or me, and I don’t want to give up. Was this what he saw past all along, already trusting which decision I’d go for because he knew I’d endure. 

I’m still hesitating, my chest tight around the thought of speaking to Darlene. Let's hold on this for now. I put my phone away as the doors close beside me, just two more stops. If she calls again I’ll pick up if I’m home. Give myself time to collect myself before I say something. It's not running, I just need the security of my own space away from these disturbances. My hand moves away to rest at my side and I sit back. 

_ “Oh for crying out loud, I’ve had enough of this!”  _ Suddenly I’m moved to stand up and towards the door.  _ “You gotta get off at the next stop.” _

So he finally speaks. I guess I’ve now officially pushed his limits on patience, or he’s picked up on the fact I’ve finally considered surrender. Either way, I don’t appreciate him removing me from my seat. I need to get home. 

_ “You’re close to getting it,” _ he gives me a mental pat on the back. “ _ Go back and apologize, I can help you talk to her. Then working with me, this can all move on.”  _

If I do what he says am I saying yes? I don’t have a choice anymore do l, he’s helping me now, isn’t he? Fuck, fine then no point in getting rid of someone who lives in my head.

_ “And then what? How is this going to get better? How? What could you possibly do?”  _

_ “That’s what we’re here for, what I’m here for.”  _ He must be smiling, pleased I’m finally asking the right questions.  _ “I’m here to protect you, get you through this.”  _

I nod at the subway doors. Even though his methods were particularly vulgar at times he does have this sense of duty towards me. I may not have always understood it, or even get what was going on or who he was, but he’s gotten me through a lot of shit. I’ll admit that. 

I can feel my legs heavy beneath me. I can feel him here with me. We’re slowing down. He told me to get off here. Will he force me off? Who has control right now? I don’t feel like doing this. I don’t think I wanted this at all. I need to just- 

_ “Can I stop by home first?”  _

_ “No, are you fucking kidding me?”  _ He scoffs, _ “you go back there now things are just going back to your bullshit. Square one.” _

He’s throwing up his hands, and probably shaking his head, being dramatic, that's what I’m picturing. He’s always been very expressive in the way he talks, no hint of subtlety. Almost like I can picture exactly where and what he’s doing with his very words. Like he’s physically there with me. 

I won’t go back to my bullshit, what does he know what I’d do? He’s with me in my head, sure, but he’s not able to predict the future. Unless. Am I really that predictable? I wouldn’t really disappear would I? I’m back here for good. I’ve admitted I finally need help, that I’d give up my routine for more constructive methods. Surely this accounts for something. 

_ “You don’t know anything.”  _

He mutters something I can’t make out but then gets fairly aggressive, making the shoulders go all tense. _ “He asked me to be easy on you.”  _

He struggles, clearly not liking this agreement he’s reached with the other one. Who I assume is this mysterious part of myself behind all this that I’ve yet to meet. I still wonder why he hasn’t come forward. Does he feel guilty as well? 

_ “But this avoiding business has got to stop! The world still exists kiddo, learn to live with it. Ce la vie.”  _

_ “I know that.” _ I do, that's why I want to get away from it. 

_ “Do you? Because to me, you haven’t done anything yet to suggest that, you're still drawing back from it all. Returning to your cave.” _

Alright. He’s right to call me out for it, I’m clearly putting off things till I get home for a reason. Admittedly, it’s still my area of escaping reality. There’s a great divide between there and the outside world I’ve yet to bridge back into place. The trigger and the lock, what activates me and what sedates me. 

Maybe I am predictable, I’d probably hold off on Darlene until she comes running back and I’d still brush her off. Hold on, no. No, I wouldn’t do that, I’m just picturing the worst-case scenario; my worst forms of behavior. I’m projecting what I think Mr.Robot thinks of me, that I’m incapable. He should see, I can go home and choose a better direction, maybe change the purpose I’ve made home into, assert a clear intention to change myself. 

_ “I just need to do something. Then you can drag me back if you have to.” _ I say.

_ “What difference does it make whether you go back now or later?”  _ He rejects.

The door opens, I grip the pole tighter in an attempt to hold him back. 

_ “The difference matters to me. I’m ready to make my own steps if you please just let me.”  _ Part of me is angry that I even have to ask permission for this. 

_ “Nope.”  _ The next thing I know we’re stepping on the platform, he has the upper hand. 

* * *

After trying her best not to lose it, and then failing to get contact she was about to give it up. She’d let him go, really considering not seeing him for a while, but Darlene was quick to buzz in when she heard it not even checking to see who it could be. She composed herself waiting for the knock. There it is. She opens the door greeted by a familiar face, someone she excepted, but not the face she wanted to see. 

“Leon.” She sighs disappointedly. “Shit forgot I invited you to help out when my shit’s supposed to get here.” 

Darlene’s list of people she could trustfully employ to lend her a hand had pretty much dwindled down to, well, her brother and his friend from prison and former dark army agent, Leon. Who is actually cool. Then Dom, who is still abroad, may have made three but who knows. They talked, but being on other sides of the world just made things awkward. Not that things already were a little bizarre between them. Everyone else she'd either lost contact with or didn't care to get in touch with to do this. Trust is also a keyword here. The consequences of putting your whole life on hold and getting way over your head in the craziest shit for half a year. 

She moves away to let him come in. He’s early her stuff wouldn’t be showing up for at least another hour but whatever it’s good he’s here. Darlene realizes she actually doesn’t want to be alone right now. Leon looks around nodding in approval at the empty space while she shuts the door. 

“I can dig.” He says then turns around, noticing the place is a little too bare. “Ain’t Elliot s'posed to be here? He ain't' come?”

“Oh fuck. Sorry, I know you probably wanted to finally see him and all.” She says, getting hit with the reminder of her current situation, and very likely the reason for his early arrival. 

She rolls her breath, finally losing the cool she’d been building up till now. “He was here, but he fucking freaked out on me and bailed.”

She shakes her head running fingers through her hair remembering how Elliot hit the door. “Can you believe? I mean I can, but fuck man! As if moving in isn’t stressful enough.” 

She continues, lifting up her phone. “Now he’s not picking up. Asshole! Probably going back to sulk in his shitty apartment and ignore me all day. Ignore fucking all of everything. Like get a grip man? I’m right here if you need to talk about it. But no just - God!” She groans. 

Leon crosses his arms, listening to her vent respectfully. 

“And-” She swings the phone down hitting it against her thigh.

“I’m scared to trust he’s going to be okay. Things were supposed to be okay, but this sucks balls!” Darlene puts a hand up to her face to stop the tears from rolling again. “I just want him back.”

There's a shared understanding that Darlene isn’t just saying she wants Elliot to come back to the apartment, it’s more than that. Leon finds this the right time to step in for reassurance.

“But he is back in’ he? Just gotta remember that. Our boy will come round. He’s strong like that.” He says. 

Darlene forces a smile and leans her back against a wall, hoping stuff comes soon so she can stop using them as furniture. 

“Yeah” She looks up at the lights on the ceiling. “I just don’t think it’s ever gonna be the same brother I grew up with.” 

Leon steps up in front of her a few feet back. He’s empathetic to Darlene’s point there, but he also gets he shouldn't be talking about his own feelings right now. Like how this Elliot probably won’t even know him and this hits him in a somber way. 

“Now I ain’t gonna pretend to understand what you two went through growing up, but I trust the Elliot you know just taking this all pretty hard.” He explains while gesturing with his hands. “Like you know how coma patients be all confused and agitated when they wake up and all. He’s probably going through something similar to that.” 

Darlene shrugs. She honestly doesn’t know how Elliot is feeling. He's hiding how he really feels, and definitely what he knows about this last year from her. Avoiding the question when she asks. She didn’t push on it, trying to let him take the lead on getting back on his feet. She put full trust he’d keep his promise, now she kinda regrets assuming that would be the best way forward, she should’ve pressed and made sure. 

He continues. “Just needs that time and help to get back to himself.” 

They stare at each other, then Darlene nods darting her gaze towards the floor. He’s really good at this reassurance thing.

“You’re right, and he’s still my brother no matter who it is, or if it's the same or not.” She says. “Hell, it’s stupid to expect anyone came out of last year the same person, even if they weren’t technically around for it.” 

She taps her phone against her leg staring over to the balcony. Darlene breathes in. Hell, she can’t give up now, this is what she came back for, what she started all of this for, to reconnect with him. She leans away from her wall rest. 

“I’m gonna try calling again.” She says, a hint of hesitation in her words. She isn’t sure it’s worth trying to get ahold of him but since she has to be here all day to accept deliveries there isn’t much choice. Leon steps aside and she walks past and out through the sliding door. 

* * *

My feet resist at first, but we make our cross over and wait for the train to take us back. I’ve gone silent, there’s no point in fighting this any further. I’ll be here, but he can take the lead on this one. I’m tired, desiring the comfort of my bed I’m being forced away from. It may have been the running, or be the emotional exhaustion catching up to me. Too many people, or not enough care. 

Now that I think about it, when was the last time I slept? What day is it? Tuesday I think? Okay, still unsure when I last slept. Not good. The days sort of feel all the same, probably because I’ve made it that way. Definitely that. 

I look down at the yellow line. He’s impatient, I can tell. The tapping foot, swaying back and forth. I don’t intrude on it, I’m mostly observing at this point. He says nothing either, I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he upset with me? Sorry I can’t help how I feel, jackass. 

My hands remain buried in my hoodie, fidgeting with the phone in my pocket. I don’t care if he is. I’m still mad so he should be happy I’m not fighting him on this. I do want to though, I know I just said I wouldn’t but I do. 

We’ll be waiting here a few more minutes, this is awkward. Do I say something? Like, hey could you leave and I go back alone? I bite my lip, knowing it would be a bad idea to ask. He wouldn’t trust I’d do it, and I would likely chicken out and head back home anyway. I understand. That’s what I still want to do. If he doesn’t trust me that makes sense.

But think about it, there I can reset, plug back in, recharge and go back when I feel up to it again. I can go help Darlene with her move after I rest. Yet I can’t seem to ever catch a break I suppose. He doesn’t hear any of these pleas from me. I’m stuck on high alert, perspiring through my fingers. 

My hand surges with vibration, she’s calling again. Shit. Shit shit. My first instinct is to stop the call but Mr.Robot makes us answer, taking my hand, accepting, and putting the phone up to my ear. I feel a pull, he wants me to talk, I won’t. Not sure out of pettiness or exhaustion but regardless this is not the ideal location to take a phone call, the signal is bad, there are people everywhere. I’m not home. 

“Darlene,” he says, mimicking how I’d talk, or maybe our voices are blended together I can’t tell. 

“Oh, you decided to pick up this time.” She responds with her typical dose of agitation.

“Yeah sorry about that.” He sounds apologetic, I don’t like that he’s apologizing for me. Maybe, should I say something, what do I say? I still don’t know, it’s hard to think. 

“You okay?” I make out past the disrupted sound of the mic, she must be outside.

“Just needed some fresh air.” He says after switching ears and I know immediately that’s not a good answer. Should I take this? No. 

She clicks her tongue. “Okay first of all you were just on my balcony doing that, so I call bullshit.” 

This isn’t going well, I knew to pick up was a bad idea. Maybe I should’ve let him in on the whole situation before he started covering for me. Hell, I should be the one talking but I’m not. My fear prevents me, fuck this. If I were home I could speak. That’s the lamest excuse, but the honest one. I’m dysfunctional. I turn my head and look at the train coming with a screech towards the platform. This isn’t right, I need to get back. 

“So cut the crap, what’s up with you? Fucking talk to me.”

If I act now I could change this, tell her that I’m anxious, and going home to calm down. We can talk more later. I open to speak this time, but nothing comes out. I can't, I’m not able to.

“Well, I’m heading back.” He excuses. This is infuriating. 

“No, tell me n-!” and this is all I could make out before Mr.Robot ends the call. What was all that? I watch with a confused expression as people file out the opened doors, face tensed up in anger. 

_ “What the fuck man?”  _

_ “Should have talked to her yourself, princess. Let’s go.”  _ We step forward onto the yellow. 

_ “No.” _ I stand my ground, forcing us to not enter. I don’t want to go back. It’s not fear, it isn’t guilt. My mind just can’t move that way, not until I reset the problems I’ve made for myself. I need to do that on my own, I need to do that at home. I struggle to restrain, but I’m able to walk us backward, steering us towards the stairs in order to exit. 

_ “Please just let me go home,”  _ I say to him. 

_ “Sure, after we’ve made contact with Darlene.”  _ Then I’m spun back around nearly tripping onto my back. 

I once again force a stop, it won’t be long until the doors close now, any second. If I win I’ll run, it’s not too far from here. 

_ “Why are you sabotaging this Elliot? You’re this close to closing that door.”  _ He swipes a hand from my pocket to show me just how close he means, but I don’t need the visual. I don’t want to hear it from him.  _ “Get on before this one closes.”  _

With that, I feel like I’ve just been pushed in the back. I practically fall into the pole, which luckily no one else is gripped onto. Fuck. 

_ “Stop Resisting.”  _ His voice is so close, so pertinent, he practically breathes in my ear.

I force my eyes shut. _ “Why?”  _

_ “Look at yourself Elliot. Dammit, there’s nothing here that will hurt you. Be rational here, you’re safe and your sister needs your help and you bailed on her. You ask me why? Why?”  _ He rocks me back and forth, jolting me into attention with every word he says. _ “Because I’m trying to get your life back, you need your life back.” _

He slows down, pauses for a moment before saying,  _ “Stop running. The fucking apartment won’t save you, only you can do that.”  _

I open back up, try to conceal my heightened breathing by holding it in.

_ “But I can help you do that, Darlene can help you do that. Don’t run from us.”  _

I’m forced to let it out, my breath gasping for itself shaking in anger. I’m not running from you I’m running from myself, don’t you see? That’s the problem. Sure my apartment won’t save me, but it can give me answers. I can find myself there, and then I won’t have to run anymore. It’s a simple ask to just let me go there first isn’t it?

I appreciate his words, I do. But this is not the time. If he wants me to be rational I am, and as far fetched as it may look I have reasons. I’ll be getting my questions straight, my emotions in check. I just need a reason enough to convince him of that. 

_ “Whatever you think you’re gonna do, save it.”  _

So he’s tuned in. How much of this is he hearing? Or no, he can’t hear this he just knows because he’s here with me. This is ridiculous. What are we even fighting about? Do I have to give up now? What I want now is peace, I want to stop all this conflict. I could give in, I could admit defeat, that's what he wants. 

There’s no way around this that ends how I want it. My head rests against the cold pole I grip to and I close my eyes once more. I think I could sleep here, dream. I’ll escape somehow, I promised to and as much as it hurts I want to keep it. My wish is to just have it happen how it would most benefit me, but perhaps Mr.Robot sees something I'm overlooking. I don't know, let's hope I'm right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out longer than I thought and was looking to be even longer than it is but I decided to cut it where I did to give myself time to work out a problem I'm running into. Is Elliot gonna get to go home or not? Well, he still has a message he needs to find.


	7. Dr3am.exe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot manages to drift asleep and wishes to dream. Then he meets someone there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is almost at 300 hits which is cool (glad people are reading my first official fic lol), and thanks again for everyone who's left kudos. I'd love to get more feedback too. All words of encouragement are very appreciated. <3

I drift into an all familiar dark void. Numbness filtering into my body as I wander back into the recesses of my mind. I need to turn myself off now, just for a little while. Sleep. Yes. Not the perfect escape but it is one. Though I feel ashamed I need this, I do. 

There we go, shutting down now. So it seems I could sleep here, that means I can dream. I wouldn’t say it’s a talent to be able to enter and control dreams wherever and whenever I want but more of a coping mechanism. Becoming my place to drift to when I need it, like right now. 

More importantly, he won’t be here, he shouldn’t be. I’m ashamed that there was a time his presence didn’t anger me, we were friends. A presence in my life I didn’t really ever talk about to anyone but was certainly there whenever I needed. He wouldn’t always find the right ways of dealing, but I don’t either. We were equally flawed. Those days of understanding, of level footing between us, that’s all gone now just like everything else I once knew. This feels like all I can do, how pathetic. 

Is it though? I guess this didn’t begin as coping, I’m pretty sure some kid had taught me how this worked before it became a flight. It was at one time a superpower. Should I explain? Usually, it's the last thing I want to think about because the wrong thought could send me down a place I don’t want to see. But I keep being reminded of childhood today, don’t I?

It should be safe. I’ll say back then making connections was easier. In that people I didn’t know talked to me and I didn’t care, not that I have ever had a lot of friends. And that’s my fault, I push people away. It’s what I do. 

Anyway, someone decided at some point he needed to teach me to do this. Perhaps because he saw us as friends or because I’d listen. It’s hard to figure out why anyone talks to me even now. I suppose my sensitive and quiet demeanor coupled with my own odd obsessions allowed anyone to open up about whatever strange thing they had on their mind. I don’t know. You set an intention to dream, and once you feel you’re there test the reality to be sure. 

If it worked, you’ve just hacked into the dream world, and with no software required you are allowed to manipulate the lines to suit your purposes. Here, you can ride the wave and let it take you or hold the reins. I'm for going somewhere interesting, where the rules are all made by me, somewhere I can be free of my worries. A place where I can’t be hurt, and there’s no reason to run. My original place of power. Sure it does little to do anything about the truth of lacking it, but we can pretend here. 

That said your subconscious still does about half the load, no place is perfect. And even the seemingly perfect places lack something, they always do. I could even write all the scripts myself but there would still be things that are out of my control once it starts to run. 

It’s a dream after all and for this to work you need to have that awareness. While you are the operator, the subconscious is the Daemon of sleep, doing its background processing. It’s best not to conjure it to you or you could break from the dream entirely. Hacking 101, don’t get caught doing it. Let it think you haven’t noticed where you are and don’t go changing everything, or it will boot you from the server. These are the rules. 

Come on. That’s enough explaining for now. Let’s drift from this void, let’s dream. 

For a while it feels like I'm flying, hovering in the weightlessness as I look down at the expanse below me. The wide stretch of the city all within my view. I’m not in the clouds, this is Queens. Not where I was wanting to be at all, but where I’ve ended up anyway. 

The handrail I’m gripping comes into focus, as well are the surrounding darkness of the dimly lit museum. It may not be the place I wanted to dream of, but this is what power is, being able to see everything, you are big and the world is small. You can gaze down and reflect on how that world is, how you fit into it. What do you do? 

That’s certainly not what I’m here to answer, this was a cop-out. My coping for a way to get away from the fact I’m admittedly incapable right now. I’ve forgotten how to control myself without my pillar of the home. As much as this could be a superpower I’m an adult turning to fantasy. Do I look to point it out amongst all the others nestled down there, at the right street and the right number? Is that what I want right now? 

I don’t need to answer that either. The good thing is there’s a better thing here in the dream, the dream isn’t reality. You can’t really feel anything you might think you are. The directions here are endless, and I suppose I could search for the right one here, but would I even wake to remember? I need to do that there, not here and that’s the beauty of this escape. 

Here is a place for a brief lapse of peace. A place to myself. A place of refuge. No matter where it is going, my dream will carry me through until we get where we are going out there. I need not concern myself with it. My hands slip off the railing and I back up hoping to explore my way around so this can be interesting until that time comes.

I turn to my left and find that I am not alone. Fuck. This place was not my choice and she isn’t either. There is no reign here, I’ve lost my touch, my hold of it. 

“What did you wish for?” She says. 

The daemon is truly demonic. It’s her, but not one I’ve seen in twenty years. She looks just like she did then, her favorite shoes, the way she wore her hair. Do not react. Freeze. It’s a dream, this is a firm indicator I am dreaming. The Angela I know is dead. 

“Angela...”

I’m reacting, this isn’t real but my mind is making me see her again. She’s speaking to me again. I try my best not to let my heart sink. Keep the dream a dream, and not a nightmare. Remember, nothing you feel here is real. My back finds its way up against the railing. Her big blue eyes staring directly into my sad sunken ones. 

“Come on tell me.” she crosses her arms and pouts. 

What did I wish for? My wishes. We must have been playing our game. When I opened my eyes here she must have opened her’s. I can’t tell her what I wished though, because I wasn’t around to do it. She isn’t either, she’ll never be around. I can’t hold back as that knowledge drops down to the pit of my stomach. 

“I can’t!” I yell in anger out from that knot that just formed in my gut. “You’re dead!” 

I’m frantic in front of the girl I once knew. I can’t let her just be that. She doesn’t have a reaction to this at all, the thing I just told her. Instead, she takes my hand. I’m just as incapable here, aren’t I? I should’ve known not to speak too soon about peace in my sleep. When has it ever been that easy? 

“It’s okay Elliot. Your wish is safe with me.” She smiles. 

I should give her something, it could make this better. My attention averts back to the diorama to think. But I already know what I want, and what I’m wishing for. It hasn’t changed this whole time. It moves to spill out of me, without much control, one wish after the other as my thoughts race. 

“I wish for a way out. I wish for people to rise from the dead. I wish to not feel this way and for why I feel this way to never have happened. I wish to understand myself. I wish to understand any of this. I wish to know where I went and why I was gone. I wish to see past everything so I can keep my promise. I wish to know how to live with this. I see Darlene holding it together just fine and I don’t know how she does it. I wish I knew. I wish,” I stop myself here. 

Dark ideas were creeping up through the cracks. I can’t tell Angela these parts, it would legitimize them. Ignore them, they’re not there. Don’t get scared, keep the dream a dream. 

I look back over and she’s giving me a look of urging me to spit out what I hadn’t finished. Or, well I haven’t considered it till now. It could be that I hadn’t said any of this. I see. No, I didn’t need to finish what I said, I need to say what I know should be said. 

”I forgot, sorry.” I force myself to chuckle out a laugh, “I wish I knew… I wish that I remembered what I wished for.”

I find myself back over to the spot I started, where I feel like I could see for miles and miles into the streets. Where we envisioned ourselves dancing, though I don’t dance. She starts to say something, but the noise is inaudible. A distant and faint feeling of nostalgia. I don’t need to hear it to know what she’s saying.

I think it’s time to stop dreaming because I’m realizing this is a memory that I’m in and now is where it should end. I couldn’t control any of this and that's why. All the words I said, all but my last ones, were silent because they weren’t true. I hadn’t said them at that time. The ones I did say, they were also a lie. I wished for something I didn’t want to tell her. Though this time it’s true, I can’t remember what the truth was anymore. 

I chuckle at that, this time without needing to force it. It’s all from the past, and maybe the one I needed a reminder of. Sometimes the daemon is right even if it tells us what we don’t want to know. I’ve forgotten something, I can feel it. I think I’m ready to call it to me, to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short in comparison to the previous ones but I think it stops in a good place. (???)  
> At the moment I'm a little to busy to really make it the full like 'episode' I had originally thought this was gonna get through. Yet I figured this still captures a full scene so I should just post an update.


End file.
